Living Art
by Krrimarte
Summary: Fang's art work... Max's reaction... Life is but living art.Complete with Companion Piece attached
1. Part 1: I want to be in pictures

Living Art

by

Krrimarte

Fang:

Max doesn't know that I notice it and I'd rather keep it that way. If she thinks she's being sneaky, she's less likely to slip up and mention something about it in front of the flock. It's not like it's something that I'm ashamed of or anything, but I would like to keep it as private as possible. To be honest, I really don't want Iggy and Gazzy to crack jokes about it.

To say that I draw is an understatement. What I do is more like plucking moments out of time and forcing them to take form on paper. I don't know what she thinks of my skill, but seeing how she continues to sneak off with my sketch-book at every opportunity, I can safely assume that she likes what she sees.

I sign and date my latest drawing. A quick glance tells me that Max isn't looking, so I loudly slam the book shut. Now that I have her attention, I make a show of carelessly putting the book away, causing it to fall out of the bag and onto the ground.

As if she's on a timer, I hear Nudge say, " Fang, can you come here? I want your opinion on something." I stand up and walk over to where she is laying down, reviewing the three- dimensional blueprint.

It's just a matter of time before Max take advantage of this distraction and will disappear unannounced. I look up form the laptop a few minutes later to discover that both M ax and my sketch-book are missing. I smirk to myself and go back to the debate that I was having with Nudge.

Almost an hour later, Max quietly plops down beside us. Even though she is participating in the conversation, she barely says anything. Obviously something has bothered her. It's not exactly the reaction that I was hoping for.

Lather that night everybody else is asleep and I'm on watch. As I usually do, I reach into my bag and pull out my other sketch-book. This is where I keep my better stuff, but Max has never seen it.

With a sigh I draw here face. In this portrait she is tired and stressed, which make her seem far older then she really is. The areas around her eyes suggest a hint a puzzling expression. On closer inspection, I realize that it is something akin to disappointment. I sign and date the page with a worried sigh.

As I slide this notebook into by bag, I decide to pull out the one that Max had looked at earlier. I wonder what upset her so much? I stare at the cover for a while before flipping it open to the last page.

The antics I captured in this one still make me grin. I try to make all of the memories in this book something that Max would like to see so It's mostly the mild chaos of the flock.

This one features Iggy and Gazzy as they demonstrate how to build a bomb in their own unique way. Comically, they are pretending that they are building their bombs in Frankenstein's lab. Gazzy mimics Max's authoritative voice, "I said no more bombs!" Iggy looks over his shoulder bug-eyed. "How does she always know?" he stage whispered. Gazzy shrugs, "Angel probably told her." Angel sticks her tongue out at her brother and Nudge laughs.

I turn the page expecting to face an empty page, but to my surprise, I see a letter in Max's neatest chicken scratch.

"Fang,

I've been looking at these portraits in admiration for a while now. It gives me an opportunity to see

what it is you see everyday through your dark eyes.

I just have to ask you one thing; Why am I never in any of the pictures? Is is because you never

see me, or do you not think it's worth the effort?

I'm sorry that I intruded in your private world. I won't be doing it again. I just thought it was kind of

sad that you titled the book "My Family" and I'm not in it.

Max. "

I re-read the letter and sigh. Of course she doesn't understand; how could she? I don't even really get it. An idea comes to me and I reach into my bag and pull out the three other notebooks. Carefully, I lay them out beside the watch point. Here goes nothing...

Quietly, I creep over to where Max is sleeping. "Hey Max, it's your watch." I whisper.

Max gets up and staggers to the watch point. I shake my head and claim her abandoned spot. I might as well attempt to fall asleep.


	2. Part 2: What changed?

Living Art

by

Krrimarte

Max:

My eyes are still adjusting to the light, but I notice the carefully displayed notebooks. I plant my butt on the lookout rock and pick them up. Why did he leave these out? I look at the neat labels on the front of them:"My Family", "My Friends", "My ???"

I think about the titles for a second and decide to open the one labeled "My Family." I immediately notice that it isn't the same one I've been looking at. The pictures in this one are far older. The first page holds a scene where younger versions of Angel and Gazzy are running around a couch. Judging by the layout of the room, I think it's from when we lived in the house in Colorado. Man these were old.

I turn the page and see myself looking skyward as something explodes overhead. That had to be the first time Iggy and Gazzy tested out a bomb.

I stick my finger in my mouth and turn the page with a moist finger. The new picture made me crack up. As if it was a black and white photo, Gazzy and Iggy grin at me with manic grins. Obviously, something had literally blown up in their faces, but they were proud of it anyway.

Shaking my head I turn the page. A picture of me and Angel lay before me. It was really adorable. We were cuddled up sleeping and Angel had her teeny-tiny thumb in her mouth as she slept.

The next few pictures were action scenes. We are all sparing with each-other. He must have drawn these the very same day that he had accidentally dislocated my shoulder, because on the next page I stood there, my arm in the sling, smiling with my head cocked. At the bottom of the page he'd written ".. I'm still sorry. "

I close my eyes and remember how guilty he had felt. He'd even locked himself in his room for hours, not answering the door. Finally I flew up to his window and knocked on it until he answered. He threw open the window and scurried to the far side of the room. I asked him why he was acting like this and he said, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

"Hey," I'd said, "I should be thanking you. You did get me out of dish duty, after all." That had one me a smirk and he'd followed me out of the room. It however didn't keep him from apologizing for the next week.

I flip through the pages and pictures of us showing off our wings take up a large section on the book. As I continue to look through it, scenes of ordinary life lay preserved in graphite and paper. Finally, the book ran out of pages. I wonder what I'd done that was so wrong that he'd removed me from his special world?

"My Friends" I discover, is aptly titled. It consists of photo-graph like shots of Ella, Mom, Jeb and a few random people that we'd encountered in our adventures.

I set both of the sketch-books at my feet and stare warily at the remaining one in my lap. "My ???" What kind of title is that? I muster up my bravery and open it to the first page. I am shocked at the detail of this drawing. He'd definitely advanced in his technique at this point, that's for sure. On the paper, me and Ari were duking it out in mid air. Every detail is perfect, right down to the trickle of blood running down my left cheek.

I'm amazed at how different these sketches are for the others. They seem to live on the page, not as artist renderings but as a tangible memory. I quickly flip through the pages. Scenes of our survival dominate the paper, all of them with me leading the way like some winged Joan of Arch. Amazing detail poured from every one. Things like they way Angel's hair spread across my shoulder like a blond web as I carried her from the school and the vacant appearance in my eyes as I argued with the voice seem to just jump out at me.

Finally, I get to the middle pages. I take a breath at the drawing there. This is the scene where Sam had snuck a kiss on our one and only date. Looking at it from Fang's perspective, I begin to understand why he was so angry about it. Bold letters line the bottom of this page. "So this is how it feels?"

After that picture, all of the drawings are of only me and they all had little notes at the bottom of them such as: "Worries too much." and "Why can't they just give her a break?"

There are pictures of me, my face scrunched up in agony with tears pouring down my face. "To strong for her own good." One of them says at the bottom. He has even drawn a scene from when I made my lovely attack induced free fall. It looked strange... almost beautiful in an eerie way. How can he be this talented and nobody know it?

The picture of my fall starts to freak me out so I turn the page and kind of wish that I hadn't. This picture makes my heart skip a beat. It's of me, of course, but it's what Fang saw on my face the time he kissed me at that cave. There are so many emotions, all of them frozen in time and none of them I could put a name too. At the bottom of the page he had written, "I wonder what she was feeling... I wish she'd stayed."

More pictures of me fill the last half of the book until I get to the very last page. It's almost blank. He's drawn a frame like boarder already and there are quotation marks on the bottom, waiting for him to fill in the details.

I close my eyes and set the book down. I need fresh air so I walk into the surrounding woods. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. In reality, I want to escape the exposing rays from the fire's light. My mind is racing as I walk farther and farther into the darkness. I look up and see that the moon is full and glorious, but it's rays only reach the highest branches of the giant trees. I'm safe here. Nobody can see my face. Taking a deep breath I collapse against the thick trunk of a tree.

"Max?" He whispers. I'm not surprised, I knew he'd be still awake. I don't feel like speaking so I just sit in silence. "Are you mad at me?" He asks. I still won't answer him.

"I never thought of it like you did." He says. "After we left Colorado, things changed. It's like your label in my life changed, and I don't know where you belong anymore. All I know is that you are absolutely crucial. I learned that the hard way." He was talking about the time we'd split the flock up. I wince at the very memory. It wasn't exactly pleasant for me either, you know.

"I don't think of you like my sister, or even like my friend. I just don't know... That's why I gave you your own place, you're own book that was completely unlike anything or anybody else." He trailed off for a second. I brace myself against the tree and hope that I can just be swallowed by the wood. When I fail to become one with the tree, I speak. "So what does that mean?" I ask, "Does that mean that you don't think I'm part of the flock anymore? What changed your mind about me?"

I feel him sit down beside me. "**You** didn't change, Max. **We** grew up. I did something stupid I guess, and I'm sorry that it's upset you." He said with a sigh.

I stare into the darkness that his voice comes from. "Then what changed?"


	3. Part 3: The sky is blue

Living Art

by

Krrimarte

Fang:

I clenched and unclenched my fists a few times. Why was this so frustrating, anyway? Then again, I don't have any answers.

"What changed?" I asked myself. "You saved us from the first attack. Then you went and saved Angel from the school." I reply. "You have shown me how incredibly strong, stubborn and brave you can be." I add. My head starts to hurt from all of this drama. "I watch you with the kids, and I see how caring and kind you are. You don't even notice it. Then every once in a while, when nobody else but me is there, you break down and show how innocent and sensitive you are... How uniquely beautiful you can be."

I waited for her to say something, and after a couple of minutes of silence I decided I had to continue. "Look, you're too strong to be a member of the flock in my eyes. To me, the flock is always what follows you. And you are far from just a fried to me. I don't know what exactly you are in my world, but I'm working on process of elimination. I know what you aren't." I state firmly. "When we split the group up, I felt, I don't know, dissected without you. I kept thinking how much we needed you, Max."

"We needed each-other, Fang. They need us to be a family, a flock." She was talking about the flock as a whole. "You act as if they're interchangeable. They aren't just tires on a car. They're like entire systems. You're the engine, Gazzy's the exhaust, Angel's the transmission, Iggy's the breaks and Nudge is the wiring, or something like that." She explained.

I smirked. "And you're the GPS; not really part of the car, but you tell us where we're going." I add.

I heard her sigh. "Fang, I know I'm needed, but how do you need me? What other purpose could I serve in your life but as a member of your family? You're my best friend, my right-hand man? Is it something like that?" She asked me.

"No." I say and ran a hand through my hair. "It's not like you play a part in my life, really. You're not that far away. It's like-" I trail off. I have a tendency to do that right before I make a fool of myself. "It's more like you are a part of me; A limb of some sort. Without you, I'm lopsided."

"So... I'm a heel. The pivot point of your gravity, what keeps you standing? Fang... that's weird." She says softly

She nailed it, but she either didn't believe it or couldn't understand it. "Why is it weird to you?" I ask.

"Because," She starts, "I don't feel like I'm a body part. I don't feel like you're one either." She says in the darkness.

I wince at how her voice sounds. She is really upset. "What do you feel?"

"I feel like I fell in love with you." She whispers. Maybe she never meant for me to hear it, but I did. I practically stopped breathing. Standing up I grabbed her are, or I hope it was her arm anyway, and yanked her to her feet.

"Hey!" She exclaims trying to pry my hand off of her arm. And yes, it is her arm. I ignore her attempts and force her into the light, turning her so I can see her face.

"What are you doing?" She hisses at me angrily.

"Say that again." I say as I search her face.

"What are you doing?" She repeats quizzically.

"No, what you said earlier." I insist. I know she must think that I've gone completely insane, but she still looks up at me with misty eyes. The tears spill over her cheeks and she whispers. "I- I love you."

I stand there looking at her, completely speechless. I flick my eyes over her face, memorizing every single detail. Finally Max bit her lip and ran into the darkness. I just let her go...

Max:

I don't think I'll ever be able to face him again. He just stood there, staring at me, like I hadn't just confessed something huge. Maybe "I love you." means "The sky is blue" in Fang speak. I should try saying "The sky is blue" and see if he gets excited.

"Angel, I know that the sky is blue." Fang announces, sounding confused.

"ANGEL!" I exclaim, but my angry impression is destroyed by my now uncontrollable laughter. The girl shrugs at me. 'Nope, that's not it.' she sends to me.

I shake my head at her. Having a six-year-old mind reader can once in a while prove to be highly amusing. Fang suddenly steps in front of me. He kneels down beside me and hands me a notebook. "I finished it." He says and walks away.

Holding the book up I read the new label. "My Max." Great, what's that supposed to mean? With a sigh I flip to the last page, the only one he could have added to, and stare in shock. I stand up quickly, still looking at it.

Dropping the book, I run after Fang.

Angel:

I'd seen everything that had happened, and was curious about the notebook that Max had just dropped on the ground. I step over and pick the book up gently. I look at the open page and smile.

A lovely boarder surrounds Max's soft and hopeful face. It's an expression that I know only Fang will ever see outside of his sketches. Everything about the drawing was perfect, right down to the stray lock of hair that brought the attention to Max's emotional eyes. Tears were glimmering as they slid down her face.

I smile as I sound out the words at the bottom of the page. "I love you too, Max."

Gently, I brush the dust off of the cover and slip the notebook into Fang's book-bag. There's no need for the rest of the flock to know about this yet...

_**A/N: This is finished. I have written a companion piece that will be posted onto this fic. It takes place 8 years after this one. R/R**_


	4. Companion Piece: The Art of Life

The Art of Life

(The Companion Piece to Living Art)

by

Krrimarte

_**Eight Years Later:**_

Sketches lay all over the table. A long time ago, Max, disturbed at her not so stellar art skills had begged Fang to tutor her in art. She'd actually improved quite a bit, as long as her subject didn't have a face.

Fang peeked over her shoulder. "What are you working on?" He asked. On the paper he could see what appeared to be a two-month old Chernobyl victim.

"It's an exercise, I'm **supposed** to be combining our features to see what our kids might look like. So far, " She gestured to crowd of lopsided faces, "they're bugly. It's not their fault, I just suck at this."

Fang could tell that she was really frustrated. "Care if I try?"

"Go for it, I'm sure you'll have considerably better luck at it." She said as she hopped out of her seat. Fang smirked and claimed her vacated spot.

"Okay, any particulars?" He asked picking up a pencil and checking it's point.

Max looked thoughtful for a second. "Just what's statistically most likely." She finally said.

"Boy or girl?" He asked.

"Does it make a difference?" She asked.

"A girl will have a softer jaw line." He replied.

"Oh... um... a girl." She said and pulled up a stool.

"Okay, so... Slanted, almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones." Muttered as he started drawing the lines.

"Narrow nose." Mas added. Fang nodded and continued announcing traits, "Deep brow, rounded chin..."

Before her eyes the portrait started to flow with the ease that she could never master. "She'd have really dark hair, like a chestnut brown... and it's be wavy." She said, adding details.

"And dark eyes." Fang agreed as he shaded the eyes in.

"What else?" Max asked, "We're missing something..."

"Skin tone. Her skin would be a few shades lighter then mine, I think." He said as he lightly shaded in the skin.

Soon Fang had finished the portrait. "She's adorable, or at least far more attractive then your collection of Garbage Pail Kids." He said with a laugh.

"Yeah she is. Definitely looks like she could be our kid." She admitted in awe. "Hey, slide it over here. We should title this."

"Baby Ride? Ha! We could call her the Merry-go-Round!" Fang said with a grin.

Max raised a brow. "Mary Ride, I like it." She said, "Now to date it... Done!" She handed the portrait back to Fang.

He looked at it for a second till his brows knit together. "Max, that isn't the date."

"Well who said I meant today's date?" She asked with a smirk.

"What's the point of dating it for six months from now?" He asked. She smiled wider.

"A different kind of date, Fang." She said.

He was obviously still confused, trapped in the world of a befuddled artist. Rolling her eyes, Max leaned into his ear. "It's a birth date." She whispered.

Fang dropped his pencil. It bounced off of the table and rolled across the floor.

"No way.." He muttered, almost mutely.

"Yes way." Max countered.

Fang smiled and kissed the hand that rested of the edge of his chair. "Time to practice my family portraits, huh?" He asked.

Mas shook her head. "So... Wanna tell the guys?" She asked.

Within minutes, Fang had faxed the portrait to the house the rest of the guys were living in. Two minutes later they got a phone call.

"So what do you think? ... No, I'm not kidding... Jeez, I just found out myself, man. ... Yeah, she should look something like that... Of course she'll be cute, she's a baby, not a puppy... Oh ha ha, Iggy, very funny." Fang said as he sat in the kitchen talking to the rest of the flock who had him on speaker phone. Max watched this with a smile.

Soon life became more colorful. Fang's portraits were hung on in the living room, Max's still-life's were mounted to the bathroom walls and the refrigerator soon became dominated by bright crayon drawings of stick figures and and cat's. It was chaotic, but it harmonized at the same time. That's the art of life.


	5. Thank you!

AN: "HOLY COW!" That was my response to opening up my email to discover that I had 38 reviews for a 4 part story that I posted in the time of 6 hours. Yes, that's right. This story seems to be a hit! And I've received the great honor of being somebody's first ever MR Fanfiction story! That's so incredibly awesome. YAY! 

I just want to thank you guys, you've been great, and yeah, I plan on editing the story in a couple of weeks.

Once again, "HOLY COW!"

Thank you guys so much, you rock.

Krrimarte


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